


Killer MSG

by devilssnare



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Universe Remix, Waiter AU, blind dates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 05:02:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11798949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilssnare/pseuds/devilssnare
Summary: Normally, like any other man, John would be offended and wounded if his date were paying more attention to the attractive waiter than to him but considering he were doing the same thing, he really couldn’t judge, could he?---------John Watson's friends and family believe that, while on leave, he should at leasttryand find a girlfriend but what happens when John is more interested in his server?





	Killer MSG

**Author's Note:**

> I watch The Empty Hearse and got inspired.  
> Not beta'd, is if there is any problems, tell me please.

John’s date was twenty minutes late. 

He thinks.

In fact, his date could be here already and he just didn’t know it.

John sighed and leant against the tinted frost windows of the _Golden Orient_. 

He hated blind dates. You never knew what the person looked like because you’ve never met them and you were forced into being charming and appealing to a complete stranger because your friends thought you’d might be cute together or that ‘it’s sad that you haven’t dated anyone since you enlisted. All these one night stands can’t be good for you.” 

So, John had to thank his sister-in-law Clara for this apparent stand up, as she was the one who both thought that all his “relationships” (ie, his quick hook-ups) weren’t healthy and that he and her friend Sarah would be perfect for each other. 

Another woman walked passed and John tried to make eye contact with her, hoping that the pretty brunette might be his date. He was obviously wrong as, as soon as the woman’s eyes met his, she clutched her purse to her chest and scattered off into the busy marketplace. 

Another shitty thing about blind dates; you were always stuck, waiting for your date to arrive (if they were going to) and then playing _Guess Who_ with every woman that passed, looking like a total perv. 

Huffing a breath, John gave both him and his date five more minutes until he conceded and went home, out of the cold November air to binge watch old _QI_ episodes, take off his shoes and socks, have a beer and maybe a wank. 

John was watching what looked like a stoned uni student cry over one of those light globe things that span when a pretty auburn haired woman walked up to him, cautiously.

“John?” 

John nodded at his name.

“Sarah?” 

Sarah nodded and fixed her gaze at her toes, looking nervous and apologetic. 

“Sorry, I’m so late. It’s just, there was no one else at the surgery and just before we closed a boy came in needing stiches and I was the only one there and-“

“It’s fine.” John interrupted her ramblings and it was. John understood the chaos and hassle the field of medicine brought into your life and while John was a little miffed a being kept waiting, he was a gentleman and British, so he didn’t say anything. 

She gave him a small smile and John thought her pretty. 

He opened the door for her and guided her in, charming her the way he always did his ‘dates’. Although he was certain that his one wouldn’t end in sex. Sarah didn’t seem like the type of woman to sleep with a man on the first date.

The restaurant was small and cosy, red and gold lined the walls, the ceiling and the floor. This was John’s favourite Chinese restaurant and he came here nearly every day during his residency days at Barts and every time he was on leave. 

He and Sarah sat in a booth near the kitchen doors. 

John always preferred sitting near the kitchen. Not because he cared about the state of it but he always liked the commotion and fast pace that went through the doors. John liked adrenalin anywhere he could find it. Plus, the added bonus of all the extra smells wasn’t too bad. 

A tea light candle sat in a brandy glass between them, casting a golden light on them. The restaurant seemed a tad bit more romantic then John remembered, but he normally came here exhausted and left with takeout, plus this was a date.

“So, you’re a doctor as well?” 

“Yes,” Sarah answered, turned to smile at the woman who placed menus and glasses on their tables. “Just GP work, though. Nothing as exciting as a surgeon in the midst of a warzone.” 

John huffed a laugh. 

“Yeah, well,” John said, looking up from his menu. “We all need a bit of excitement in our lives.” 

Sarah blushed at John’s blatant flirting, giggling into her menu. 

John inwardly cringed. He didn’t partially like woman who giggled like schoolgirls. 

“I supposed we do,” his date flirted back. “Although, I wouldn’t get my excitement from a warzone! I don’t know how you went back after-“

John’s heart dropped as Sarah’s faced turned bright red. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she spluttered, turning even redder. John worried about her blood vessels. “It’s just that Clara told me you were shot and everything and that you went back and-“

“Hey, hey,” John fussed, taking one of her hands in both of his, rubbing in a relaxing motion. “It’s okay. I was shot and I did go back.” He shrugged, pulling a self-deprecating smile. “I suppose you can call me an idiot.” 

“No, no!” Sarah said, gripping at John’s hands that were holding hers. “I think you’re quite brave.” 

John looked deep into her eyes and smiled in the way he knew made women melt. This look had gotten him laid in three different continents (thus, earning him his nickname) and it looked as if it were working tonight. 

Sarah was visibly melting and John pulled another one of his tried and tested moves and lifted a hand to Sarah’s face, gently sweeping a strand of hair behind her ear.

Like clockwork, his date melted and sighed, closing her eyes at his slight touch. The way she was reacting to John’s touches was astounding. It seemed that maybe John might get a shag out of tonight. 

“Are you ready to order?” 

A deep voice pulled John away from the swooning Sarah.

“Not yet, mate. Can you give us a min-“ John looked up at their server. “You’re not Chinese.” 

The man blinked and narrowed his eyes at John.

“No,” he said, drawing the sound out, staring unnerving at John. 

John couldn’t look away from the man’s eyes. 

“Give us a minute?” 

The server looked John up and down before flitting his gaze towards Sarah. He looked back at John and gripped tightly at the notepad in his hands. 

“Alright, I’ll be over there when you’re ready.”

He gave both of them another quick look before walking over to the window that looked into the kitchen. 

John watched him go, mesmerised by the length of the man’s legs and the way the curve of his arse fit into the black material of his trousers. 

John watched the man scribble something hastily into his notebook.

‘Well,” Sarah said, drawing John’s attention back to his date and the possible chance of getting laid and away from the not-Chinese server. “I’m thinking chicken. You?” 

When their server came over to their table again, John’s gaze got stuck on his face. 

The man had the most amazing and sharp cheekbones John had ever seen and with the combination of those with his dark curls, light eyes, pale, clear skin, and tall and slender body, John wondered why the man was waiting tables in a shabby, hole-in-the-wall restaurant and not modelling for Vogue or something. 

“Are you ready?” The man asked Sarah, focussing a polite smile to her that John thought very false. 

“Yes,” Sarah said, still peering at her menu. “I’ll have the lemon chicken, thank you.” 

He wrote down her order and flipped the notebook, focussing on John. 

“And you, sir?” 

John cleared his throat. The man’s voice was like rumbling thunder during a blinding hailstorm and John loved it. 

“I’ll have the curry laksa with prawns, please?” John smiled up at the man and watched him write down his order. 

Writing on the back of a page of the open notebook caught his attention. 

_Not over her ex. Won’t be for a few months_.

“Will there be anything else?” 

John made eye contact with the waiter. The waiter raised his brows and looked down at his notebook, to Sarah and then back at John, giving him a significant look. 

John did the same, looking from the notebook, to Sarah and then up at the waiter. He raised his brows, asking a silent question. 

_Seriously?_

The man nodded subtly, not to tip off the woman they were (not) talking about.

_Seriously._

“We’re good, thank you,” John said, absentmindedly 

The man took their menus.

“I’ll be back with drinks.” 

John internally deflated. He wasn’t heartbroken that he and Sarah probably weren’t going to last after this one date he was still disappointed. 

Sarah was attractive and John had just come back from nine months in the middle of the Middle East with nothing but his right hand to keep with company and he was looking forward to actually having sex with a real person but he looked at Sarah to catch her smiling softly at him.

Damn. He couldn’t sleep with her. As horny as he was, he was still a decent guy. Plus, Clara would cut his bollocks off if he did and never called her again. 

The rest of the meal was pleasant. 

It was nice to have a conversation with a fellow doctor without the shared traumas of war getting in the way. 

John learned that Sarah’s specialty was in paediatrics and worked at a practice quite close to John’s flat. She enjoyed reading British classics, painting, gardening and was a Capricorn. 

Even without the knowledge provided by the strange yet captivating waiter (who John’s eyes followed every time his long legs walked passed) had given him, John probably wouldn’t have made any other attempts at something. 

Sarah was pretty and smart but it was lacking something. 

Luckily, she felt the same.

“This didn’t work, did it?” She asked, pulling her coat further around her as London’s abysmal attempt at snow fell around them. 

“No,” John shook his head. He gave her a sweet smile. “You are a lovely woman though.” 

Sarah smiled back, flushing. 

“And you’re very intriguing but I’m still getting over someone and-“

“It’s okay.” 

They smiled at each other.

There was an awkward silence as the both tried to end the date without seeming harsh. 

“Well, whenever you’re on leave again and you want to grab a coffee with a friend, or get tired of a warzone and just want a calmer job, call me.” 

“And if you ever get over this guy and want to date a soldier, call me. I’ll hook you up.” 

John pressed a soft kissed to her cheek and she walked away. 

John watched her until she rounded the corner, making sure she was safe. 

He turned and walked the other way, continuing pass the restaurant until a small orange light distracted him.

His gaze was pulled into the alleyway behind the building and in between a skip and numerous boxes; John saw the faint shadows of long, slender legs. 

“Hey,” John called out and the man drew himself out of the shadows. 

It was the server from inside and he looked just as hypnotic in the light of the many neon signs around them then he did inside. 

“Thanks for the tip earlier.” John said, nodding towards the restaurant. 

The man took a slow drag of his cigarette and slowly blew the smoke out away from John, his eyes never straying.

“It’s fine.” 

There was a silence as John rocked on his heels. The man stared at him. 

“Afghanistan or Iraq?”

John’s eyes shot up to the man’s face, where he was staring. 

His cigarette hung out of his mouth so nonchalantly, as if he didn’t just completely astound and stump John. 

“Afghanistan. How did you know?” 

The man smirked and before he could answer, the back door to _Golden Orient_ opened. 

“Will, breaks over. Get back in here.” 

The man- _Will_ -smirked at John.

“See you later, Doctor.” 

He winked at John and left, butting out his cigarette on the doorframe on his way through. 

John walked home in a daze. 

 

Five days later, John was back out the front of the _Golden Orient_ about to embark on another blind date. 

After his not-really-a-date with Sarah, Clara (and this time Harry) decided that maybe nice and innocent wasn’t really John’s type and after the many imaginings and fancies about the tall server, Will, John was inclined to agree. 

It wasn’t long until a gorgeous dark-haired woman walked up to John.

“John Watson, I presume?” His date asked, her devil red lips curved up in a smirk. 

“Irene, I take it?”

“Of course.”

She smiled at him and walking to the restaurant, not bothering to wait for John to open the door. 

They were sat at the table he was at last time and he quickly pulled out Irene’s chair for her.

She laughed airily and took off her coat, revealing a tight black dress. 

Every man’s (and even some woman’s) eyes were on her immediately and she knew it and loved it. 

She sat down slowly and John pushed her chair in. He sat down in his seat fast enough to watch Irene rearrange her cleavage, giving a show to everyone watching. 

John’s eyes were drawn to the movement. 

“So, John,” Irene said, forcing John’s gaze upwards. She leant forward on her elbows, resting her chin in the cradle of her hands. She raised a perfectly arched brow. “How do you know Clara?”

“She’s-ah, married to my sister.” 

Irene’s winged eyes narrowed. 

“Really?”

John nodded and sat back, subtly looking around for Will. There was something in Irene’s body language and tone that he didn’t like. 

Giving up with his search empty handed he look back at Irene, finding her smiling at the woman pouring the wine. Irene took a sip and stared at the waitress over the rim of her glass. She licked the red stain off her lips. 

“This’ll do nicely,” she looked away from the stuttering waitress. “Won’t it, Jack?” 

“John.”

“Yes.” 

“So,” John said, trying to steer the conversation to one less…chest-achingly awkward. “How you know Clara?” 

Irene smiled. 

“Oh, I don’t really. We met last Monday and we got to talking and she asked me if I were single and voilà, here I am.” 

John hummed and was gratefully saved from further conversation by the arrival of Will.

“Good evening, are you ready to order?” He smirked quickly at John before turning his attention towards Irene, who was looking Will up and down with a pleased expression on her face.

Normally, like any other man, John would be offended and wounded if his date were paying more attention to the attractive waiter than to him but considering he were doing the same thing, he really couldn’t judge, could he?

“Hmmm, yes. Are you on the menu?” 

Will didn’t even blink.

“No.”

“I’ll have the Tom Yum Soup,” Irene said, unfazed by Will’s short answer. 

Will scribbled down her order quickly and turned to John.

“And you, sir?”

“Curry laksa with prawns, please.”

Will nodded and wrote down John’s order.

He flipped the page of the notepad, revealing the message underneath.

“And anything else?” 

_Lesbian._

John snorted, drawing a confused look from Irene and an amused one from Will. John tried to stifle his laugh in his hand.

“No, we’re fine, thank you.” 

Will walked away and left Irene staring at John, bewildered.

Dinner went about as well as you would think when one of the participants was a lesbian and the other was a man who had eyes for the waiter. 

Once the check came, there was a quick goodbye and no numbers exchanged. 

John went to walk back to his flat when he was stopped by a deep voice in the alley. 

“Is it your norm to go out with lesbians?” 

John chuckled and walked towards the smoking Will.

“Not really.” 

“Care to explain?” 

“Can’t you guess?” 

“I prefer to be…precise.”

It occurred to John then that he was flirting with a stranger in a darken alley and he could feel that familiar rush of adrenaline flood his veins. 

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll tell you about Irene and you tell me how you knew about Afghanistan.” 

The man pushed himself off the wall and flicked his cigarette away. He stalked towards John, stopping just in front of him. 

“Haircut, stance, shoulder, tan.” 

John’s eyes gravitated to Will’s lips but flicked back up again after realising what he had said.

“Pardon?”

Will rolled his eyes.

“Haircut, standard military. Stance, straight back, shoulders back, feet together when wary or intensely listening, like now.” 

John flushed, forcing himself to relax.

“Now, back straight, hands behind, feet parallel to shoulders. Classic military. Shoulder, you were shot. Badly, but not enough to hinder your performance.”

Will must have caught John’s awkward shuffling when he mentioned John’s wound and carried on. 

“Finally tan. You’re hands, neck and face are tanned but not your wrists nor your sternum. You went somewhere sunny, but not on holiday. Military doctor it is then.” 

“How did you guess doctor?”

“Your date Sally said you were both doctors. I overheard.” 

“Brilliant.”

Will stopped dead and John could have sworn a light flush highlighted those cheekbones.

“Oh, okay.” He blinked a couple of times as if the remark wasn’t registering. “So, um,” he shook his head. “The lesbian?”

“Oh,” John said, huffing a laugh. “My sister-in-law is setting me up and I think Irene thought Clara was asking her out, not me—or for me, really. It’s confusing.”

“Not really. Your family are worried that you are in your thirties, unattached and you find it hard to date due to your job, so they decided to force you into what is basically an interview for these women’s future husband, or in Irene’s case: wife, to see if one will stick.” 

John snorted.

“Yeah, basically.” 

His phone buzzed and he pulled it out.

**Clara**  
_John, I am so sorry. I thought she was straight! I promise the next one will like guys, I promise._

John bit his lip. He should probably phone her and reassure. 

“I’ll see you later?” 

Will cocked his head.

“If you bring more of your dates here.”

John rolled his eyes and walked away, throwing a wave behind him.

“Bye, Will.”

 

Molly Hooper was exactly the type of girl that Mike would think would be perfect for everyone. 

After the whole ‘lesbiangate” thing with Irene, Clara had taken the week off from matchmaking, or more likely, Harry finally took pity on her older brother and reigned in her wife. 

Unfortunately, John’s friends decided to step up and play cupid. 

Enter Mike Stamford, an old med school friend of his, who thought the pathologist from Barts would be perfect for him.

Molly was pretty and kind. She seemed smart too as, when John arrived (early, mind you), Molly was already seated, doing a crossword, but she seemed very closed off.

John stood watching Molly, her shoulders hunched in a yellow cardigan, picking nervously at her nails, as her gaze never left the folded newspaper in front of her. John even spotted what looked to be a scalpel wedged in her ponytail. 

John didn’t mind shy girls, in fact during his uni days he thrived on them but Molly seemed so small that one small gush of wind could knock her over flat.

Still, you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.

“Hi, Molly, isn’t it?”

Molly looked up and flushed, shaking John’s hand that wasn’t even offered. 

“Yep, that’s me.”

John didn’t really need clarification. When Mike told him about Molly he said, ‘look for the one who seems more likely to be a librarian and not a woman who plays with corpses all day.” 

John sat down. They weren’t at his usual seat, they were closer to the door and John hoped that they were still in Will’s section.

“Sorry I’m late, I thought I was early.”

“Oh no, I’m early because I thought I was late,” she explained, putting the folded newspaper in the purse at her feet. 

“Yeah, you got—“ John gently pulled the scalpel out of her hair. “You had a scalpel in your scalp.” 

Molly laughed and took the sharp tool away from John and put it in causally in her purse.

Well, John thought. At least she’s protected.

“Sorry about that. My last patient, Mr Abbott, was found partially decomposed and I had to cut the maggots out of him for his family.”

The poor waitress who gave them their menus and refilled their water looked traumatized and John tried not to laugh when Molly attempted to apologise. 

“I’m a pathologist,” Molly tried to explain in a small voice as the waitress scattered away. 

There was a lull in conversation as Molly tried to get over the mortification but John didn’t mind, instead searching the restaurant for Will.

John found him, loitering near the kitchen doors and when they made eye contact, Will smirked and raised his eyebrow at Molly.

John shrugged and Will came over, his notebook poised and ready.

“Hello, are you ready to order?”

“Yes,” Molly said, staring heatedly at her menu as she tried to decide. “I’ll have the—“ Molly broke off when she looked a Will, a starry-eye look overtaking her face. 

“The?” Will prodded.

“Loh Mee.” 

Will quickly wrote Molly’s order down and John’s note and turned towards him.

“Curry laksa with prawns, please.” John added, reading Will’s note.

_Seems more interested in me._

John smiled to himself and watched Will walk away, Molly’s eyes following him all the way to the kitchen.

John would be offended but honestly, same. 

Dinner was quiet. Molly was clever and once she was out of her shell, very quick witted. There was only one instance when Will came to refill their drinks when Molly made, what John could only call, a word vomit mess.

Molly was funny and wise and, if you ignored her enjoyment of _Glee_ , had great taste in TV shows. 

Once again, the check came and no numbers where exchanged, but John did hope to see her again. If John ever had to work with a pathologist, it would be Molly. Many pathologists were too serious, but Molly had a certain morbid sense of humour that John enjoyed. 

Will was already waiting in the alley when John stuck his head in.

“Good choice.” Will sarcastically applauded. 

“Shut up, it was another blind date.”

“Tell me,” Will said, sauntering up to John, tucking a cigarette behind his ear. “Do your family not know you at all? Or are they hoping that your taste in women has changed?”

“Ah, this one was chosen by a mate.”

“Some mate he his.” 

“Well,” John shrugged. “Not all of us want excitement in that aspect of our lives.”

“And do you?” Will asked, a sly look in his eyes. “Do you want that excitement?” 

John’s breath stuttered as the man so openly flirted with him.

John turned on his own charm.

“I suppose. Don’t we all?”

John took the cigarette that Will had placed in his mouth and had begun to light and tucked it back behind his ear.

Will looked him up and down and smirked.

“Maybe.” He leant down and whispered into John’s ear. “Although, I’d prefer a bit more experience. Not just a quick fumble in the showers after rugby practise.”

John spluttered as Will leant back, a smug look on his face.

“Or was it football?” 

John stood there, rooted to the floor as Will went back into the kitchen.

“Go home, John.”

And John did, only to have one of the quickest wanks he had ever had in his life. 

 

His mate Bill was a bastard. 

Not only had John already slept with Louise but also he had obviously forgotten to call her and Louise definitely did not forget. 

It had only taken a smile and a small laugh to clue John in that, _oh shit, I know her._

Louise was…spiteful, to say the least. 

She glared at him and scoffed when he tried to initiate conversation but she hadn’t walked out yet, which only worried John more. 

“So, I heard you got shot.”

John choked on his water.

“Yes,” he coughed out.

“Good,” Louise said, going back to her menu. 

John shuffled in his seat; terrified that Louise was going to poison him. 

“I’m just—“ He got up when he got no reply and walked towards the bathrooms.

He hid in the single stall restroom until there was a knock at the door.

“Occupied.”

“It’s me,” came a familiar deep voice.

John unlocked the door to Will.

“Your date left.”

“Oh thank God.” 

Will raised an eyebrow and gave him a look. 

‘Come on.”

John followed him into the kitchen, where Will sat him down at a small table crammed in between a pantry and a stainless steel bench.

He watched Will have a heated conversation with one of the chefs in what sounded like fluent Mandarin and came back with a plate of garlic fried vegetables and a plastic bag of prawn crackers. 

“Eat,” Will said, sliding the plate towards John. “My break’s in five.” 

It was a bit awkward being left there, with each of the chefs and a number of wait staff frowning at him whenever they looked his way, but he was hungry and he really wanted to see Will. 

Will came back in five minutes later, grimacing and stained wine red. 

“Finished?” Will asked and John nodded. 

Will left through the backdoor, stuffing a prawn cracker in his mouth and John followed. 

He leant up against the wall and lit a cigarette, a small smile directed at John.

“So, why were you hiding in the bathroom?” 

John chuckled, kicked at a can to avoid looking at Will.

“I had already slept with her.”

“Didn’t call her back?”

“No,” John chuckled. He didn’t really want to talk about his womanizing ways in front of the man he really, really wanted to shag. 

Will hummed. 

“I should probably stop bringing them here,” John chuckled, trying to change the subject. “I’ve eaten here so much, I’d probably OD on MSG.”

Will chuckled until a thoughtful look shadowed his face and he bolted back inside. 

John stood there, staring at the door, wondering what he did wrong.

He walked home with a heavy feeling in his chest. 

 

John was tired. 

He had only a month left before his next tour and didn’t want to waste it by going out with strangers while the person he wanted to date was the one serving John and his many dates.

His next one was actually courtesy of Sarah herself, who thought the new nurse at her practise would be perfect with John.

Her name was Mary and if John weren’t hooked on a certain waiter, John would be buying her breakfast. 

She was funny and quick and not to mention beautiful but when they sat down at his normal table _Golden Orient_ John immediately looked around for Will, hoping to see him again after his strange vanishing act the week previous. 

Mary was flirting with him and John smiled and replied politely back, his concentration on the red door that separated the kitchen from the dining room. 

“Good evening and welcome to the _Golden Orient_. Are you ready to order?” 

John was disappointed at the womanly voice.

“Yes, I’ll have the roast duck with rice, thanks.”

“And you, sir?” 

Before John could answer, the kitchen door burst open and out ran one of the chefs, wielding a large knife, heading for the door.

Will ran after him and John, for reasons unknown, jumped up and follow suit.

He ran after Will and the escaping chef into an abandoned car park, helping Will trap the man.

Will and the chef spat at each other in harsh Mandarin and after something Will said tartly, the man lunged swinging the knife towards Will.

John ran and tackled the man, wresting the knife out of his hands and pulling him into a quick headlock, restraining his arms. 

“John?” Will asked, incredulous. 

He kicked the knife away and the car park was suddenly filled with flashing blue lights and sirens. 

A greying, stressed looking man, got out the car and walked towards Will.

“Sherlock, I swear to God, how many times do you have to tell you to wait for back up?”

Will—Sherlock?—groaned.

“You would have been too slow, Inspector.”  
The chef struggled in John’s hands and he tightened his grip, alerting the Inspector of his presence. 

“And who is this? Dear God Sherlock, don’t tell me your dragged a civilian into this.” 

A dark skinned woman came behind John and took the struggling chef away from him, handcuffing him and reciting his rights. 

“No, no. This is John. He…helped.” Will—Sherlock—seemed lost and so did the inspector, rubbing at his temples as if trying to avoid an upcoming migraine. 

“You know what, Holmes? Just, come to the Yard tomorrow to fill out a report.” He turned to John. “You too.” 

John nodded as the police took the chef away.

Sherlock walked up to John and helped him off his knees.

“What you did was…good.” 

“Thanks, but ahh-care to tell me what the bloody hell happened?” 

Sherlock laughed.

“My name’s Sherlock Holmes and I’m a consulting detective. I went undercover at the _Golden Orient_ as there had been several murders linked to them and Scotland Yard were completely out of their depths.”

John took a breath. 

“Okay. So the people I have been eating from for the last eight years are murderers?”

“No, not all of them.” Well, that’s reassuring. “Just Chef Zhang and the waitress Celine. I knew it was them, I just needed evidence and a motive. I didn’t expect you.” 

John flushed at Sherlock’s tone.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, me either.” 

Sherlock smiled at him.

“Did you want to get back to your date?” 

John smiled back

“Nope.” 

Sherlock smirked.

“Dinner?” John asked.

Sherlock cocked his head amused.

“I have witnessed you go on five dates and heard about your womanizing ways. You sleep with women and don’t call them back. You are not looking good from my end.” 

John stepped closer to Sherlock and tugged the man down by his collar.

“Dinner?” He whispered into Sherlock’s ear. 

“Starving,” Sherlock murmured back. 

 

It was only when they were half down Queen’s Street when John spoke again.

“Wait, this restaurant doesn’t have a murderer for a chef, does it?”

Sherlock chuckled.

“No, I got him off that charge.”

John could feel him gloating and ran with it.

“Oh yeah? How?”

“I proved he was across London.”

“Oh oka—“

“Breaking and entering,” Sherlock finished with a smirk. 

John’s laughs echoed in the night.

 

John didn’t go on another blind date and when he came back from his final tour in Afghanistan, there was a tall, slender, gorgeous detective waiting for him at home, with Chinese food for them to eat on the couch before having a glorious welcome-home shag.


End file.
